My window is my ticket to today. I see squirrels chase, lovers stroll—hear rain fall and friends laugh. I smell wet pavement. Memories stir. They are carefully stored in the index boxes of my soul, there for the borrowing, like a giant library. Treasures to be read and reread.
A prolific writer, Carol Reeves is loving the freedom and challenges of 50 word stories. Her memoir, “All the Little Miracles,” was published last year. She often writes of the privilege and vicissitudes of aging.